Injury
by Honeycreeper
Summary: Amanda faces her new life, coming of age as an apprentice and being in love with a dying man. JohnxAmanda, pre Saw III. Now finished.
1. Part One

Injury

disclaimer : I own nothing, that goes to our dear Leigh, James and Darren

foreword :

I know I'm not the only one who thought that John and Amanda were actually lovers. In fact, I'm sure that was the original plan, but Bousman and Wan figured that no one wants to see a love affair between two sadists and that they should tie it in with the whole good parenting theme (that Jigsaw was trying to say he was a better father than Matthews). Anyway, if they had been lovers, here's their story.

Review if you'd like. Tell me if it's good. Tell me if it's crap. There are some issues I see with it myself, but I'll take other people's word first.

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"What did you feel?"

His voice startled her. It was a sudden intrusion in her thoughts, and as much as she adored him, she hated when he did that.

"I felt...alive." Amanda looked up at him. His mouth was a thin line, but he nodded.

"Anything else?"

Amanda's mind fluttered back to that fateful day. What had she felt? Panic. Confusion. Anger.

"Sure, lot's of stuff."

John scoffed, "That's it?"

She hated how he prodded her, made her relive painful moments all the time.

"That's all I want to talk about right now." She turned her body away from him again, seeking refuge from his questioning.

His hand moved to stroke his goatee, thinking to himself, "Tell me about prison."

Well, that was a new one. He never asked her about prison before. "It was dirty, and cold, and lonely." she said flatly, "And that's all there is to that."

One of his spiteful smirks graced his lips now, "Somehow I doubt that's it."

Amanda's brow raised, "I guess it wasn't." She should've known he'd see through that, "At least the heroin was nice."

"Why the heroin?"

"Nothing better to do." Amanda wrapped her arms around her waist, "Sitting in a 9 by 9 cell all day isn't exactly stimulating. All you've got is your mind, and some dirty bitches in the bunk next to you. You think of all the time you're wasting and it just gets to you. At least when you're high, you don't think about that. You don't feel that gaping hole in your heart. Even only a few moments of that sweet coma, something seems right."

John could feel he was breaking through, finally reaching something that Amanda needed to open up to.

"Tell me about what you missed when you were in prison."

"What I missed? Everything. Being able to go out with my friends, a night on the town, being dumb girls like we were. I don't have those friends anymore, you know? I went to jail, they got married and don't have the need to live like that now. They didn't understand what it was like to go to jail. You know what else I missed? My boyfriend. I missed waking up and being able to talk to him, everything we did together. He left me. My sister, she was fourteen when I was arrested. She's nineteen now. We used to be best friends. I don't even know her anymore." Amanda fought the tears welling behind her eyes. "Why? You know? Why did this happen to me?" her head sunk slowly into her hands, yet she forced the tears not to come.

Now was the time. Amanda needed release. She wasn't going to grant it to herself. John had to up it a notch.

"What about Jennifer?"

In one swift movement Amanda turned back to him, her eyes wide and jaw dropped, "How in the fuck do you know about Jennifer?"

"I read your diary." The smirk on John's face was gone, replaced with sympathy, "Must have been humiliating."

A rage burnt in her, "Humiliating?" she said now through gritted teeth, "Oh, you can't even imagine!" she shouted now.

This was good. It was the emotion John needed to get out of her.

"Jennifer...So, she made you perform sex acts for a fix?" he said plainly, "Beat you, kept you away from other inmates? Stole your food?"

"YES!" Amanda shouted with force, "Yes, alright! Yes! She was a fucking dyke, a fucking whore, useless!" the blood rushed to Amanda's face, "Her only pleasure was from other's misfortune! Every time I shot up or was beaten, or even cried, she got some sick fucking high from that. Of all people in the world, I despise her most! She fucking violated me, John! She violated me!"

Amanda clenched her fists, ready to pound them on something, "All I felt in that place was hurting, every second, every moment, just pain... Make it stop, please make it stop..."

Her balled fists started pounding against her head, "I don't want to feel this way forever!"

"Amanda, stay with me - that hurt, feel it - you need to feel it. Hurt, as painful as it is, makes you feel alive..."

With a thud she fell to the ground. John gasped, afraid that he had pushed it to far. Amanda was slurring, but her hands moved to the area near her mouth. She was moaning.

John could barely hear the inaudible words, Amanda kept repeating them, clawing at her face,

"Get it off..."

John got down next to her, "Amanda?"

"I..I'm hurting," she sobbed, pulling at invisible metal trap around her mouth, "Everything hurts..."

"Shh..." he tried to soothe her, running a hand in her hair.

"You hurt me John...please don't hurt me any more..." her face was soon buried in her hands, her hair sticking to her wet mouth and eyes.

His arms moved around her, pulling her firmly to him. His thin lips met the top of her head. Amanda whimpered a bit, seeking out his embrace like a child. She found her cheek pressed against his hard chest, the tears suddenly stopped.

"Shh..be quiet." he said above her. She looked up to gaze into his eyes which were just as red as her's. No words were spoken between the two, just a deep stare.

"I'm sorry." Amanda finally said, laying her head back onto him.

"For what?"

"For breaking down."

She heard him chuckle, "Don't be."

He strained hard but managed to pick her up, and that was quite a feat for him. Instead of bringing her to the couch she usually slept on, he carried her to his bed. Gently as he could he laid her down, "Go to sleep, I'll just be in the next room."

John was about to hobble away when Amanda called, "John! Don't. Come to sleep with me..."

He thought to himself. He had a lot of work to do, his design for the blue print of the house was almost complete. There was no time for sleeping. Amanda laid huddled in the bed, her hair askew and eye makeup dripping down her face.

"I just want to finish the blue print, that's all."

"How long will you be?"

"Oh, not too long. A few hours, I suppose."

Amanda nodded, "Fine.", she pulled a thin sheet up around herself.

John shrugged and left, heading over to his drawing board. Amanda was making progress. She just needed to go through the final phase - just one more time, one more game, and she would complete her apprenticeship.

It was perhaps a half hour later. John had just finished the final draft of the razor box. How lovely the consequences of it could be. Either way, someone's blood would soak the glass, although he hoped they might live. The trick to pulling one's hand out is to twisting it slightly and pulling them out one by one. He would make sure to make that clear in the directions, since most people would probably only slice their wrists more.

He heard his name called, drawn out long and lazily, like a child calling their parent, "John..."

John sighed and stood from his seat at the desk, momentarily putting the draft in a folder. It wasn't that he didn't want to be at Amanda's beck and call, he loved it. The problem was that she was so high maintainence, and clingy, and he was just too busy or tired to be there all the time. What about a time when he wouldn't be there anymore? He didn't want to think about it, not tonight.

Hobbling into the room he saw Amanda laying there, her arms over her head, her eyes closed.

"Please come to bed." she murmured.

How could he deny her?

He shrugged off his robe and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Amanda rolled over a bit so he could fit in, since he was quite tall he had to curve his body around her's.

"That's better," she smiled at him, her eyes still half closed and groggy.

"Surely." he responded, facing her so that his breath touched her lips.

Amanda ran a hand nonchalantly through her hair, trying to wake herself up.

"Have you ever been in love, John?"

He arched his brow, "What does it matter?"

"I just want to know."

"Once," he said, unable to lie, "She left me."

Amanda suddenly sat up, looking into his eyes, "But why?"

John shook his head, "I wouldn't marry her. It was stupid."

They shared a glance for a few moments, Amanda's hands finding their way to caress his shaved head, "Why would she give up you?"

At that, John laughed, loudly in fact. "Ah, because I'm an old goat, that's why!"

Amanda, on the other hand, didn't laugh. There was a serious look in her eyes and John wondered for a second if he had offended her.

"John, don't you love me?"

"Uh," he hesitated, what could he tell her? "Of course I do, Amanda. You're like my daughter."

"Oh." she seemed dejected, "Your daughter?"

"Well, yeah, I mean...isn't that how I should feel for you?"

"I've never seen you as a father."

"Oh really? Then what, an uncle? A billy goat?" John chuckled again, but was caught off guard as she began to pull at his shirt.

"As a lover."

John gasped as she touched the deep scar where he had been impaled by metal from his crash. Her fingers treaded over the still healing wound as she lifted the shirt off of him. She caressed another scar from a bullet shot at him by Detective Sing, it went right through his shoulder.

For once, John felt utterly vulnerable, sitting there with his body and scars exposed to her. His eyes widened as she took off her own shirt, but didn't get much of a glimpse because soon she was busy kissing his scars.

"..Amanda, stop, this is wrong!" he found the words to say, although her mouth on his heated flesh excited him to no end.

"Why is it wrong?" Amanda almost whimpered like a puppy that had just been rejected, "If I want it, and you want it, then it's fine."

"No, Amanda, I'm your teacher. I could be your father.." John couldn't finish those last words. He was a dying man. He needed love for these last few months. Deep in his soul he knew he loved Amanda endlessly, more than he thought possible to care for another human being.

Amanda placed a loving hand on his chest.

"I love you," she whispered to him, a hand caressing his goatee.

"I love you, too, Amanda," he said, his voice shaky, not sure if he was certain about it.

She kissed him then, gently, moving her body slowly against him. His older and now ill ravaged frame could've broke down at her gestures, but instead it built him up. It gave his body meaning, and he felt like himself again for the first time in a long time.

In his bed they made love until they both collapsed from exhaustion, and John hadn't felt as happy and releived in many months. The ailments of his fading lungs didn't matter as he stared into the sweet, ecstasy ridden face of his lover. They led each other in their intricate dance but it was over all too soon for both.

She laid with her head upon his chest, feeling his heart which beat slowly, feeling his desperate lungs expanding. He sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly extremely spent from their love making. But god what wonders it had done for him.

"So what is is like, fucking an old dying man?" he asked, his fingers tracing her jawline.

"Perfect." her breath tingled his chest, her fingers such sweet torture as they ran down his skin.

They soon both fell into a deep sleep, their dreams tainted with love and passion and the flow of ecstasy, but then the screams of their victims, the blood that flowed from the inflicted wounds. How bittersweet life is.


	2. Part Two

Part Two

disclaimer : I own nothing, that goes to our dear Leigh, James and Darren

John smiled in satisfaction.

He was almost done.

The house was already rigged, thanks to Obi, with the exception of the furnace. All he had to do was go and make a few final adjustments.

He stared at the layouts of the traps, how he adored each one, each one an extension of himself. The razor box, the furnace, and then the needle pit. Amanda had given him that idea, as he saw the old scars of track marks. People like Xavier did that to her.

John hoped every one of those needles would puncture him, the man was of no use at all to the world.

There was no game for Amanda, since her game would be an unspoken one. Just to make sure no one hurt the boy. It was a big risk to send her in that house, but he was sure she would be able to do it. She would have the antedote before even going into the house, and then he'd give her another one afterwards just to be safe.

Thinking of putting her back in a game made his blood grow cold now, but he knew it must be done. How else could she continue on after him?

Surely Amanda wouldn't bail out, not at this point, but he had to make sure.

In the distance he heard her turning over in bed, still sleeping. It was the early hours of the morning, sometime around four o'clock he supposed.

Maybe he could leave before she awoke, to go see the house.

His eyes scanned the room looking for something to leave her, a note to tell her where he'd gone. Taking a marker he wrote on a notepad, "Gone out. Be back tonight. - John."

He pulled on a longsleeved shirt, and then fetched his robe. When he entered the room for his robe, he caught sight of her.

Still a wreck from her 'session' the night before, but even more of a wreck now from their night's activities. He thought for a moment of kissing her, but decided against it,

for if she woke up she would never let him go.

The house, one of his most elaborate games to date, had to be finished. Afterall, what is an invention without it's maker?

Hood up over his face, he left in the cover of the morning darkness, driving to his destination.

Amanda woke up alone, but she had expected that.

She didn't expect John to be gone completely. For almost half an hour she searched around the lair but no sign could be found of him, until she saw the note.

"Oh." she thought to herself, "Business I guess.." she knew well what that meant.

Upon checking the clock in his office, she frowned at the time. 1:42 pm.

"God, I slept that long?" she thought to herself, a hand rubbing her stomache which was growling now.

The lair was a strangely beautiful place. It held so many creations within it's walls, creations which could take lives. Scenarios that would destroy lives.

John had made so many of them there were enough to last well after he was dead and gone. He'd told her specifically to follow his instructions and designs at first, at least

until she got the method down. Now John wasn't just playing a game, he was playing Mechanic Engineering teacher to Amanda.

Her stomache growled loudly suddenly, and Amanda frowned again. She checked the small refigerator John kept in the office, only to find iced tea and some bread.

"Doesn't have much in the food department does he?"

The only solution was to go out and get something, despite Amanda not knowing the neighborhood too well. "Oh well."

She took a similar note pad, and jotted down , "Went to the store. Be back later. - Amanda"

After fixing up her hair and wiping off her makeup, she deemed herself decent enough in appearance to leave the lair.

She didn't expect to be out so late, but what was a simple running out to the convienence store turned into a six hour excursion with a former friend. A former friend

who Amanda guessed was back to being just a regular friend.

The two actually bumped into each other in the middle of the Seven Eleven, full body collide was more like it, coffee splashing everywhere involved.

Amanda thought she recognized the profile, even though some extra weight was on the woman now.

"Tara?"

The woman looked up, at first not seeming to know whom she was talking to. A look of remembrance came to her though, "Amanda!"

She was a small, delicate woman, skin and hair slightly darker than Amanda's. Time had caused her to gain some weight and wrinkles, but she was still pretty as usual, as Amanda remembered her.

"I haven't seen you in six years!" Tara wailed, her arms coming to embrace Amanda tightly, "How's been things?"

"Um..." Amanda smiled, "Good. You?"

"Oh, fine, fine," Tara looked at her watch, "Let's chat over lunch?"

Amanda stared at the coffee and box of ring dings that were now on the floor, "Sounds good to me."

"Oh, c'mon I know a nice Italian 'bout fifteen minutes from here, Cesar's or something..."

With that Amanda was dragged to the restaurant.

Tara could barely shut her mouth long enough to chew food. The whole time she talked about work, married life, the old days. She updated Amanda on where all their old

friends and ex boyfriends were now. To Amanda, some of them sounded good enough for the game.

"So, what's been up with you?" Tara asked, passing the parmesian to Amanda.

"Reader's digest, or unabridged?"

Tara laughed, "Everything juicy."

"Well, for starters I was in jail."

Tara's eyes widened, "For what?"

"I was framed."

Her eyes widened more, "Framed? Oh my God, Amanda, you should..."

Amanda smiled, "It's being taken care of. But I spent three and a half years in that place."

Tara shoved a forkfull of linguine in her mouth, "My God, Amanda, I would've come to help you if I knew what happened..."

"Then I started doing heroin."

Tara nearly spit out her food, "Heroin? The girl who would barely drink at parties?"

"Yep. Two whole years, starting in prison. I've been clean seven months." Amanda raised up her arms to show the healing track marks.

"Good for you!" Tara said, taking Amanda's arm and inspecting it. "May I ask how?"

A wider smile graced Amanda's lips, "The man in my life helped me get off it."

"Oh, you've got a catch there then! Tell me about the fellow."

Amanda's smile faded, "He's older and he's...sick."

"With what?"

"Cancer. They say it's terminal but part of me wishes so badly they were just mistaken. But he says the cancer is a good thing! Helped him see life more clearly. He said

losing his own life helped him go out and save other people's. He saved mine and now we're together, but... it's not for long. I give him two years at most from this point. And that's being generous."

Tara's jaw had dropped completely open, "I'm so sorry, Amanda, really. It must be so hard..." her voice faded off and she dropped her fork.

"Oh please, Tara, I didn't mean to upset you. I haven't seen you in almost six years, let's talk about the better things in life!"

The two went out to the other extravagant places in the nice part of the city, window shopping and even stopping in to see an art gallery. When Amanda caught sight of the time, nearly seven o'clock, she yelped, "Oh my God, I need to get back, John will worry!"

Tara looked over, "I'll drive you back, Mandy."

Amanda gulped, Tara couldn't see the lair. "It's ok, just drive me to the seven eleven. My place is a block from there, and it's hard to find so I'll just walk."

Tara shrugged, "Whatever."

After saying goodbyes and exchanging numbers, Amanda found herself in front of the store again. This neighborhood was so much different at night, and it scared her thoughroughly.

Their lair was in the adandoned warehouse just down a block from the main avenue. Maybe five minutes from the intersection.

Hurrying down, Amanda swore she heard a noise behind her. Shivering from the night cold, she continued down the road, but couldn't shake the feeling someone was there.

In a few more paces she would've reached the doors to the warehouse, but then they showed themselves.

Two men, both burley and hulking, stepped in front of her trail.

One gripped her shoulder, "Well well, what do we have here?"

"Rather late to be out for a woman such as you!" the other sneered, his hand moving to his pocket and bringing out a small pocketknife.

Amanda didn't say a word, but didn't move either. She was still debating in her mind what to do. The men were coming closer, the knife veering towards her throat.

In a moment of weakness she blurted out, "Shit."

To this the men laughed, turning and giving each other knowing glances.

"So, what should we do with this one?"

The question was never answered. The one without the knife grabbed her around the neck, choking her. Instinctively she pulled at his thumbs, and managed to tear his hands from her neck. The one with the knife, upon seeing this, hit her in the head. Amanda fell to the ground, her throat and head burning from the impact.

She put her arms above her head to block from the blow she knew was coming. It never came.

Lowering her forearms from in front of her face she saw the two men, one with his eyes wide, staring at the other. Then she saw it.

A blade, right through his neck. His mouth hung open and air was hissing through his mouth.

"What the fuck?!" the man screamed seeing his now mortally wounded companion.

The blade was pulled out from his throat with a rip, blood and flesh still on it. The man fell nearly lifelessly to the ground, left to wheeze his last few moments alive.

Amanda would know that voice from anywhere. John's face was concealed by the robe, and the blade extended from his sleeve, past the leather glove on his hand.

"People like you, taking advantage of women in the dark, are such cowards. You people don't even deserve a chance to live."

Before the man could make another protest, John lunged at him, sending the blade through his shoulder. He howled, but was soon silenced as John's elbow made contact

with his temple.

John motioned towards him, "You get that one, I'll get the dead one."

Up until this point Amanda had merely watched in amazement. Without protest she grabbed his arms and begun to drag him inside.

"Take him to the lobby, he'll be out a while. I'll deal with him when I'm done."

John had already began lugging the other towards a different entrance, so Amanda just complied and dragged the living one with her.

The elevator shook with the weight of his body as she descended to the lair. For a brief moment his eyes fluttered open, but quickly closed again. Yes, he was indeed going to be out for a while.

Doing as John told her she left him in a bloody heap on the lobby floor. There was blood on her hands, but instead of being disgusted she felt a sense of retribution.

After cleaning up she sat down in a chair right next to Billie. The doll that had once terrified her now amused her as a beloved toy would amuse a child. Why she named it

Billie she wasn't sure, except upon remembrance that one she had a dog named Billie, so it brought back memories of childhood. John hadn't protested the nickname, rather smiled every time she said something about it.

Now she slipped her hand into the socket meant for ventriliquism work. Billie's lower jaw began to move. Amanda smiled, moving it more. Then she added words, and for a moment doubted her own sanity.

"Hello," she said, trying to make her voice deep like John's, "You've been a naughty boy, and for that you must take my challenge."

"It's 'I want to play a game'."

Amanda nearly jumped as John's voice seemed to be right in her ear. He was standing at the door frame though, something reminicent of a smile on his lips. "Having fun?"

She spoke through Billie, "Maybe just a little."

"I'll make you one, you know."

"Hmm?"

"We'll name her Lillie. One all your own, so you don't have to use old Billie forever."

"I'd like one of my own." Amanda mused as she removed her hand from Billie. This puppet would always hold a place in her heart though, for reasons that clung to her very existence.

"Anyway," John said, before he coughed roughly, "I'm going to go take care of that one." he pointed towards the lobby.

"Alright."

"Oh, you know I meant to tell you, it's not a good idea to leave the lair after dark. Just remember that so I don't have to come dashing to your rescue again."

Amanda nodded but it was in vain, for John had already left.

She didn't see him again for about a half hour. When she went looking she found him strapping the now half-conscious man to a contraption.

It was a chair, with a clamp over the mouth so that they could not be heard. His arms and legs were strapped down. There was a peice of metal around his neck and another contraption hovering over his groin.

"What's that?" Amanda asked.

"The Clamp." John said, "This is just the prototype, and I wasn't expecting to use it so early, but the moment has come."

When it seemed the trap was all in place he stepped back.

"I don't do this often, but to those who are found traipsing around the lair I use for these purposes. To test out the trap."

"Ah." Amanda nodded.

"So, I suppose we should try it out?"

Amanda seemed to shrink a bit then, "R..right now?"

He hadn't thought about that she wasn't ready yet to witness a trap in motion again. She was still in 'training'.

"If you don't want to see it, you don't have to."

Amanda bit her lip, "I'll stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

John shrugged and walked up next to the man, who was now mostly awake, and stared him down. John took the clamp around his mouth off.

"May I ask you, sir, what exactly you were doing outside of my home?"

He seemed stunned, "I didn't know it was your home!"

"Well, alright," John sighed, "But what exactly were you doing to this woman?" he pointed towards Amanda.

"Oh please, come on, we was just having a little fun! We was just -"

"Shut up." John comanded, "What is your name?"

"Nick."

"Nick... What makes you think you deserve to live?"

His answer didn't matter because John clamped the mouth peice over again, and the man was silenced. However, his eyes were wide in shock.

"You see Nick, now you're going to have a purpose. Your death will give someone else's life a purpose, do you understand?" John pulled the lever, "And with that, I bid you

adieu. Game over."

Amanda winced as she was the trap flex, first clamping down hard on his groin. Muffled screams were masked by the metal, but his eyes were now flung wide open and his fingers lexed and legs writhed in shock. At first it scared Amanda, but she found herself growing cold as his torture went on. When John felt the man had enough she clicked a small button near the lever, and the metal around the man's neck twisted, breaking his vertebrae instantly.

"My God." Amanda said, looking at the man's dead body, his head hanging lifelessly.

John turned to her, "If you'd please, I need some time to dispose of this one. You can sketch something, if you have any ideas."

Turning away from the sight, now as if it was nothing, she walked over to the drawing board. Grabing a pencil and a piece of oaktag she began to sketch.

It was Lillie.

She drew Billie's face, but the hair was long and black, and it wore a dress. The general facial features were smaller, but otherwise it looked like a twin to Billie.

Unaware of how much time had passed, she felt his bony hand upon her shoulder.

"Lillie?"

"Yep." in scribbly letters she printed Lillie on top of the sketch.

John's hand, still gloved, moved to her neck, caressing the soft skin of her throat. It was bruised now from being choked, so he tried to soothe it, erase the pain that happened.

"A wife for Billie I suppose?"

"Why not." Amanda replied, laying her own hand over his.

He moved his face next to her ear, his stubbly chin and sticky lips touching the warm flesh of her earlobe and face. "Can you still love this monster, Amanda?"

The sudden question surprised her, why would he ask such a thing?

"You're no monster, but yes, yes I still love you."

"Good." he said before taking her earlobe in his mouth. She gasped, suddenly stiff with arousal. Taking her hand he helped her raise from the chair, his arms moving around her, his hands feeling her body underneath of him.

She kissed him then, harder than he expected, and in her aggression she was the one who led him to the bedroom. Above him she kissed him, her hands roaming over the

same scars they had the night before. Now they felt more like beauty marks she was acquainted with than foreign scars on his body. Tonight, John took more time in discovering her, kissing the purple bruises on her neck, caressing the track marks that haunted her arms.

For tonight, as Amanda moved above him, she refused to believe he was a monster. She refused to believe he was a murderer, or a liar, or a dying man. He was just the man who had changed her life. The man who had helped her.

But when she finally nestled herself next to him, exhausted and satisfied, he had a coughing fit. It only reminded her that there was not much more time for him, for them.

It broke her heart to hear him coughing so much, but she threw those thoughts out of her mind.


	3. Part Three

Part Three

disclaimer : I own nothing, that goes to our dear Leigh, James and Darren

As soon as his coughing subsided Amanda felt it right to speak to him again.

A stray finger ran over his shaved scalp, "When are you going to grow back your hair?"

He hadn't thought about it, after shaving it for one of the games, so he could wear the latex bullet wound, he kept it that way. Then again, it was only a month ago.

"Do you want me to grow back my hair? I think I look good this way."

"Grow it back." Amanda said, "I want to see it."

They didn't say anything for a while, Amanda just curled herself up next to him.

"John?" her voice was soft, like a child's.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember the day we met?"

"Of course." how could he forget that day now?

"I wouldn't have imagined..." she eased her face into the crook of his neck, "Tell me the story of the day we met."

"Tell you the story? Like a bedtime story?"

"Yeah, it'll help me get to sleep." she said, the sheets rustling as she pulled them up around her shoulders.

"If you insist my dear. It was November. Late November, on a Thursday. At the hospital."

"You remember that?"

"Yes. I keep journals of everything that's happened. At least since my diagnosis.." he continued the story, "You were in the cafeteria, eating lunch. And I just happened

to be there at the same time."

He looked down at her, and she nudged him to go on.

"The orderly, Zepp, he told me about you. He told me everything about everyone, but you caught my eye. Then I saw you in the cafeteria, so I just had to sit down accross

from you -" he smirked, "Even though you weren't looking too good."

Amanda would've teasingly hit him if she wasn't drifting to sleep.

"John, what did you say to me? I can't recall."

"I said why is a beautiful woman such as yourself stuck in a hospital, living out your days as a junkie."

"What did I say?"

"That you knew."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Why did you chose me John? For the game?"

A pause.

"Because I cared."

Amanda grabbed his hand, "Because you loved me?"

John hesitated, "I don't know."

Amanda nodded sleepily before rolling over and falling into sleep.

Back then, almost a whole year ago, he hadn't loved Amanda. Pitied her, definately. He was even jealous of her, young and naive, even slightly innocent compared to others. She'd just seen too much in her years. No, he hadn't loved her. But he cared. Wasn't that the point?

Now he loved her, more than he thought possible. His hand found it's way to her hip, where it stayed, gripping her and not wanting to let go.

He moved up right against her, his body on her's, hand still on her hip, his face near her neck.

She was sleeping so deeply she barely felt his breath against her throat.

In his misery, John began to weep. Not once had he shed tears since his diagnosis, but now he did with his lover in his arms. He had to leave her. One day, and one day

soon, he could no longer be with her. No longer watch proudly as she set up traps, share his joys of the games, or have the feeling of knowing someone felt the same way

about his livelihood that he did. Some day soon he could no longer stroke her hair, or kiss her lips, or make love in their bed.

_Ah, but it was worth a lifetime of suffering to just have her for a while, wasn't it old man?_ He said to himself.

With a sudden extreme tiredness creeping up on him, and the nausea hitting the pit of his stomach, he closed his eyes. Willing himself to sleep, he joined

Amanda in lucid dreams.

Even in sleep she swore she could feel his sadness.

That night Amanda dreamed of John's death. She didn't see him, but she could feel that he was gone. Blood was on her hands though, and she was trying frantically to

get it off, but it was no use.

When she awoke she was terrified. Turning to him, she laid her hand on his chest.

Still breathing.

Amanda still felt adrenaline pounding in her chest, and didn't want to wake John with her hysterics. She got up, taking his robe from next to the bed, and wrapped it around herself. By the time

she padded into the drawing room a sketch on the board had caught her eye.

Beds on top of what looked like pits.

Gingerly taking it off the board she turned it over.

Syringes. Hundreds of them, inside the pits under the bed.

She almost flung the paper away from her. Of all things it was that one sketch that sent chills down her spine. What poor soul would be thrown into that?

More importantly, why had John made such an abhorrent game as that?

The thought of those needles made her sick to her stomach. Since her addiction ended she had learned to loathe the needles she used to worship. Devices of sin was

what they were now.

She tried to get the image of those pits out of her mind, but she kept seeing syringes full of blood and black tar heroin. She got so upset she could feel the bile rising in her

throat.

Why would John ever make such a thing as that? It was worse than anything she had seen him create before.

In the corner of her eye she saw him stir, but now there was no fondness for him.

_That son of a bitch_, she thought, _who does he think he is?_

_Jigsaw, of course_, her mind chimed back.

Amanda quickly snatched up the sketch and held it, wrinkled, in her fist.

John was barely out of the bedroom when she spat,

"What the fuck is this?"

John groggily looked at what she held, "A sketch. What else."

"Don't be a fucking smartass with me!" Amanda shouted, "Why would you make this?"

John didn't seem at all wary of her anger. He just seemed irritated.

"Amanda, what exactly do you think I made it for?"

Amanda stormed up to face him, shaking the sketch in front of his face.

"Needles, John?" she waved the sketch all around, "Who do you think you are, using needles in a game! It's unfair, it's cruel!"

John seemed to ignore her outburst and limped his way to his desk.

"I don't find it any worse than anything else I've ever created."

How she hated him at this moment.

"It is John, you know it is."

"Why? Does it too closely hit home for you, Amanda? I could've put you in that, but I didn't have the idea back then."

He looked away coldly, still tired and not in the mood for argument.

Amanda couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Did he care so little, after everything that happened?

She stood there in the middle of the room, dumbfounded.

"Well... Fuck you too!" she shouted, storming off, but she wasn't sure where to. She found herself in the bedroom, confronted with only her own nerves.

Thoughts mingled together in her mind. She couldn't well leave, he would find her, or worse. She didn't know if she could stay. For the first time since their early meetings

did she truly consider that he might just be a charming monster.

She almost laughed, but that's what he was, a charming monster. Even thought he cared, and loved, it was a very strange way to it. The only way he could show passion

it seemed was through cruelty. But he hadn't been so cruel during the nights...

How could she get back at him? Give him a taste of his own medicine?

She wasn't sure how long she sat in that room, but when she emerged she would consider him differently.

John looked up and was startled to see Amanda in front of him.

She stood with her arms straight at her sides, her hair a wreck, face stony.

"What was your wife's name?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your wife."

"Amanda, we weren't ever really married..."

"Just tell me!"

He decided to play along, "Jill."

"Tell me about Jill."

John shook his head, "No. I'm not getting into this."

"Just tell me!"

John stood up, too quickly, almost falling over, "I don't need to tell you anything."

"But you make me tell you everything!"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because it just is."

He started to walk away, trying to retreat to the lobby, but Amanda didn't let up.

"It's not different. You make me spill my guts without prevail, and make me sit there, naked and vulnerable, while you just watch. Like some fucking pervert, you want to

get inside my head. Well fuck that! Let me see inside you for once, just once!"

John spun around.

"You want to know about Jill?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell you about Jill! She called me irresponsible but she was an alcoholic. She had been arrested so many times, I spent nearly every weekend coming to bail her out.

She didn't care about her life, or mine, or my son's!"

John was silent then, suddenly aware he had just let too much slip.

"S...Son?"

He turned away, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Please,"

Time seemed to stop. Amanda wasn't sure when she sought John out again.

He turned, eyes sad, and looked straight into her soul.

"Amanda... I..."

"John, it doesn't change anything. Please, please just tell me something, anything."

He sucked in air, his eyes now cast downward.

"His name was James."

"Your son?"

John nodded.

"He died in 1986. 10 months old. My wife, you see, killed him. Accidentally of course. Drunk driving incident, ran a redlight. Another vehicle slammed into them, right on

the side James was on."

He said it so coldly. Nearly 20 years since the boy's death, and he had trained himself to grow distant.

She wanted to go up to John and hug him, tell him she was sorry, but he had descended into a world of his own.

"He didn't even have a shot. 10 months old and his life was taken from him. It killed me inside. Do you know what it's like to see other people in their bliss? My friends were

getting married, some had kids. My relationship fell apart and my son had just died. Tell me Amanda, is it my fault? Did I squander my life?"

"Your fault?" Amanda choked out, "No, John, of course not! It was just circumstances, things happen, bad things, but you move on. You told me that."

"Now I'm not so sure."

They were both silent that night, both went about their own business. When night fell Amanda found herself alone in the bed, he never came to join her.

She didn't care that much, they both needed to be alone with their thoughts for just one night.


	4. Part Four

Part Four

disclaimer : I own nothing, that goes to our dear Leigh, James and Darren

"So, how's things?"

Tara smiled from across the table. The two had made plans to meet every week, always a new restaurant or cafe. Today, it was Juan's, a Mexican

place. Latin music played softly in the background, and Amanda couldn't help but notice how the pale yellow of the walls contrasted with Tara's

dark body.

"Alright, alright. John's been getting a bit worse, he's on oxygen now."

Tara shook her head, "A shame, really."

Amanda never stayed on these subjects long, even though Tara seemed willing to speak of them and cared.

"How's the business?"

Tara laughed, "Oh, God! Awful! I'm barely making a profit."

Amanda shrugged. "Could be worse."

"Well...yeah." Tara sighed, "Hey, Amanda..."

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to sound..nihilistic, or cold hearted, but.. what do you plan to do when John's gone?"

"I'm not sure."

Tara smiled a little, "I've been looking for a new place, and, God, we're in our thirties now, but would you want to go into an apartment with me?"

Amanda thought quickly to herself. There was her tiny apartment she was never at, and there was the lair. She hated to think of it, but John had

less than a year left. Maybe six good months. The lair would go to her, but she needn't keep the apartment she had now.

Tara interupted her thoughts, "I know, it's something kids would do, but -"

"I'll do it."

"Good! I'll look into places, you know, cheap but decent."

For the rest of their time Tara spoke of their future home. Amanda vaguely heard it, for her mind was on other things. Namely the game.

Tara dropped her off at her usual spot.

"I'm so happy we're doing this, Mandy, it's as if we're sisters!"

Amanda smiled, "Of course, Tara, of course."

"Amanda, I need to speak to you."

John was sitting by himself at his desk, breathing heavily. Months had passed since that night she learned of his past. They never spoke of the

night again, but they had learned to come together once more. Now that John was growing weaker, Amanda was learning the true meaning

of being a caretaker, and about what life was soon to be like.

"Hmm?" she sat across from him, but reached across the table to take his hand in her's.

"I don't have much time left. I can't be fixed Amanda, but... You're almost done. Soon enough you won't need me, you can continue the games on

your own. There's one last thing you need to prove."

"Oh?"

"I looked into Detective Matthew's past. There's a boy, of sixteen... Daniel. That's his name, Daniel."

"Yes?"

"We need him. He's the bait for Matthews. He's done nothing wrong that I know of, nothing a child wouldn't do, but he's going in the game."

"You're putting him in the game? Isn't that -"

"No, he will be perfectly fine. In a safe place. The boy will not be harmed."

"How?"

"You are going with him. You will protect him."

Amanda's jaw dropped, "You mean... you mean I have to go into the game?"

John nodded.

"Amanda, this is your final step. Take it."

Amanda shook her head, "John, this is serious, I mean, didn't I already prove I was worthy?"

"Oh you have, Amanda, you have. You're worthy of everything this world can give you and anything I can pass to you."

"Then why are you making me do this? I did this for you! I did this!" she pulled her sleeves back, showing him the white bandages on her wrists.

"John, I've had enough!"

"Amanda!" he snapped, his hand darted out to grip her wrist so tightly she cried out in pain, "This is it. Concentrate!"

"No!"

She released herself from him, and nearly ran out of the room.

She didn't even feel herself fall, didn't hear her body hit the ground. It was all too much. John loved her, but why did he torture her so?

It wasn't just the games, or the tests, it was everything. He was going to die. He was going to leave her.

Her fate had already been set.

She hadn't known she'd passed out either, until she came to, and turned to see none other than him.

They were on the bed, and she knew, just i knew /i this would be the last time she ever laid in this bed with him. She could feel it, deep down,

that something was coming.

More than anything, more than love, she hated him now. This would be the last memories of him, and she hated him.

His hands were again on her wrists, and she struggled, but to no avail. For a dying man, he still had a will that couldn't be broken.

"I'm sorry." was all he said, his face lowering to her's.

"What?"

"Hear me now, I'm sorry." he pressed his face to her's, eyes closing, "I know I've hurt you. But it was out of love, it is for the better. I'm sorry,

Amanda."

"Say it just once more."

This was the only thing she ever wanted to remember of him once he was dead and gone.

"I'm sorry."

Now, she couldn't hate him, even though it felt as if she did.

Lips met lips for one last time, as both struggled to keep this memory. He broke the kiss momentarily to give attention to the nape of her neck,

where his mouth stayed. The soft fabric of her pants were soon pulled down as she felt his fingers begin to probe her in her most sensitive area.

She gasped, "John..."

His index and middle finger were soon inside of her, his thumb teasing her elsewhere.

"You must meet death,"

He was interrupted by a moan from her, as she grasped onto his body for support.

"...But you have to you have to chose life,"

As she reached closer to climax she began to breath heavily, John smiled to himself.

"You cannot follow me in death, but please help my legacy live in life." his icy eyes caught hers just in time for a pang of ecstasy to echo

through her abdomen.

His voice was like an aphrodisiac as it spoke into her ear, "Promise me you'll do it."

"I...I..." Amanda felt herself nearing the final step, "I promise!" she yelled, as she thrusted her hips at him one last time, her muscles clenching and spasming around his digits. She loved the feeling, not just because of the way it felt, but because she was with him.

His fingers ceased moving as Amanda sighed against him, her face on his shoulder.

"When do I have to go into the game?"

"...Soon."

There was a sudden prick in Amanda's bicep and she looked down to see a needle there, "What's that?"

"To help you rest, my dear."

"John..." she whimpered, "John, this is it..."

He didn't aknowledge her.

She faintly remembered him telling her of the boy named Daniel again. Before she drifted out of consciousness she remembered another

needle pricking into her skin, this one was filled with a green serum.

Amanda wouldn't wake up for many hours later.

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To be continued perhaps...


End file.
